Gangel
by Princess Shania
Summary: Series of one-shots depicting life with the Company as they make their journey to Erebor. What fun and games could they have gotten up to? What stories would have been told around the fire? How did they make their bonds with each other during their quest? Will contain quite a few pairings including Bagginshield, Kiliel, Dwori as well as family & friendship moments.
1. Chapter 1

So, he had been very, very wrong about the Halfling. He still felt guilty and couldn't think what to do. And that was when Gandalf came in handy.

"Hobbits like flowers, you know," the Wizard said, as he strode alongside Thorin one afternoon.

If that was what it took to show Bilbo his friendship, then that was precisely what Thorin would do. He didn't get his chance to find any until a few days later, when they stopped by a field of lavender for the night. He disappeared into it, which was a shame, because if he hadn't, then he would've heard Ori asking Bilbo why he wasn't in there too and then he would have heard Bilbo's reply.

"They're not really _good_ flowers."

But he did not hear this, and was walking through the field, picking flowers and either adding them to the bunch or tossing them to the ground again. Once finally satisfied with his bunch, he made his way back to camp.

"Master Baggins."

Bilbo's shoulders slumped as Thorin placed the bundle of lavender into his arms. He'd thought that Thorin would.. well, like him more now, but clearly that was not the case.

"I hope these get the message across," Thorin said calmly, before taking his leave.

Bilbo watched him go, the bouquet shaking in his trembling hands.

* * *

Thorin couldn't understand why the Hobbit avoided him so. He also looked _so _sad all the time, that the exiled King worried that the flowers given hadn't been good enough. The next time they stopped, he spotted some bright yellow flowers growing nearby and went to retrieve them, dropping them by the burglar's side.

This time Bilbo's eyes widened and he paled.

"I hope these will help you know my thoughts on you, little burglar."

Bilbo nodded. "Th-they do."

* * *

The Hobbit was looking positively distraught the next day, which puzzled and displeased Thorin. He saw flowers, tall and graceful, their petals a deep orange colour growing by the stream they were near and went to get them, in the hope these beautiful flowers would get their burglar smiling again.

However, when given, the Shireling looked up at Thorin, his green eyes large and utterly heartbroken, whispered an apology and left, earning Thorin a glower from Bofur who had grown quite fond of the little one.

"What did you do to him?!" Bofur demanded, pointing at Thorin with an accusatory finger.

"I did nothing!" Thorin protested. "I was trying to be nice!"

"Well, you must've done something!"

"What's going on?" Balin asked.

"I was only taking the Wizard's advice!" Thorin defended. "He told me to give him flowers and I did and he clearly doesn't like the orange ones!"

"What's all the noise about? Where's Bilbo?" questioned the aforementioned Wizard.

"Thorin gave him his least favourite flowers and he's upset with him," Dwalin explained.

"What flowers did you give?" Gandalf asked.

"Purple ones... lavender. And yellow ones..."

"Carnations." Ori said, tryng to be helpful

"And those orange ones," Thorin pointed at the lilies Bilbo had left.

"I see," murmured Gandalf.

"What do you see?" Thorin asked impatiently.

"Hobbits are creatures of the earth. They place great symbolism into flowers."

"So, what did the flowers Thorin gave mean?"

"Lavender means distrust, yellow carnation means disappointment and the orange lily," Gandalf gave the flowers a pointed look, "signifies _hate_."

"Hate," Thorin whispered. "He thinks I _hate_ _him_?"

"He also thinks you distrust him."

Thorin ran his hands through his hair. "Why did you not tell to avoid those ones?"

"Because I didn't think you'd actually do it." Gandalf admitted.

Thorin sighed at him. "I'll find him now and sort this mess out."

* * *

Bilbo didn't know what he'd done to earn Thorin's disappointment, his distrust, his...

His _hatred_.

He didn't know how he was going to get through this venture, knowing that someone who despised him so would be there every step of the way. He sniffled quietly.  
Before he'd known that Thorin was unsure about him, but the exiled King had said he'd been wrong, had apologised and now things were even worse than they were. Had he shamed Thorin by saving him? Was that why?

So lost in thought was he, that he jumped upon hearing a twig snap and turned his head to see the very Dwarf he'd been thinking about.

Oh.

Thorin was looking at him now, as though lost in thought, and then strode over and awkwardly stood, looking down at him. It felt odd to describe Thorin Oakenshield as 'awkward', but he looked so very uncertain of himself that it was the only word Bilbo could really use to describe him. Bilbo's confusion deepened when Thorin suddenly dropped to his knees, gifting Bilbo a view of his clear blue eyes.

And then, for the second time that month, Thorin hugged him.

* * *

The Hobbit was obviously a bit surprised by the sudden hug he'd just been given. Understandable. Thorin didn't like to think what must have been going through his mind. It felt a tad undignified to be kneeling down, but Thorin ignored this feeling and focused on the quivering person he held in his arms. He drew back and pressed his forehead lightly to Bilbo's, feeling his shaking go down as the customary Dwarven action soothed him. Bilbo knew that Dwarves only touch foreheads with close friends and kin and it was perhaps this, rather than the embrace, what calmed him.

Deciding that if he was going to be down here, the Hobbit could join him, he gently pulled the Shireling towards himself and sat back.

* * *

Perhaps Bilbo had missed something, but he didn't recall the contract saying, 'You May End Up Seated On The Surprisingly Comfortable Lap of Our Leader. Yes, The One Who Glares A Lot'.  
Not that he was complaining.

"I owe you an apology."

"You don't hate me?"

"No," Thorin's eyes were very sincere and he moved a hand to run it through Bilbo's curls. "No, not at all. I just thought they were pretty and that you'd like them."

"I should apologise too. I shouldn't have assumed you'd know what they'd meant."

"No," a wry smile came to Thorin's features. "Let's not forget our reactions in the Great Hair Fiasco we had a month ago. You need not apologise for being unaware of what others do and do not know."

"Neither should you, then."

"Hmm." Thorin murmured. He placed his head against Bilbo's again. "All the same, I regret that you were hurt by my actions."

"You didn't intend to," Bilbo said. "Did you?"

"No!" Thorin declared, giving the Hobbit a look as though he'd been shot.

"I don't understand, why did you feel the need to give the flowers?"

"I was informed," Thorin's voice sounded slightly abashed, though his expression stayed neutral. "That in Halfling culture giving each other flowers was a sign of friendship. Among other things, it seems."

To Thorin's surprise, Bilbo started laughing.

"You idiot, Thorin!"

The Dwarf felt like dumping him on the ground and walking away, but kept his patience despite this slight against his intelligence and settled for giving Bilbo a sharp look. "What's funny?"

"I already knew you wished us to be friends. You kept saying as much."

"I wanted to be certain." Thorin said.

"Ah." Bilbo was quiet, his laughter finished. Twisting around, he gave Thorin a warm smile and softly repeated his belief that the Dwarf was a fool.

"Maybe so, but Dwarves like to show our friends that we are just that to them." Thorin explained.

"We just tell each other," Bilbo said. "Despite what you were told, we only give one or two flowers to each other. If you'd given a bunch of red and yellow tulips, you would have been declaring your undying romantic love. If we were to give _one _ to a friend, we would be telling them of our love, but that would be a friend love. Does that make sense?"

Thorin made an agreeing noise, though most of the explanation had gone over his head. He turned his head to see a soft warm flickering in the distance and remembered the others, who were most likely wondering if they were going to come back at all.

"I suppose we'd best get back," Bilbo said, climbing off of Thorin. He offered a hand, which was politely declined and took a step back as Thorin stood.

The Dwarrow placed a heavy arm around Bilbo's small shoulders and turned, stopping short of crushing a small patch of tiny, white flowers.

"What are these?"

"Jasmine. It's a love flower too."

That was all the explanation the Dwarf needed and he swooped down, yanking them out of the soil and presented them to the Hobbit. Green eyes stared into blue and Bilbo mumbled, "there's a lot of flowers."

"Mmm."

"You remember what I told you? About how _friends _ give each other a few?"

"I remember." Thorin's eyes seemed very dark and they held a glitter the younger being had never seen the King's eyes behold.

There was a short silence, broken by a quiet murmur of acceptance.

When they finally returned to camp, if Thorin's hair was a bit untidier than it had been and Bilbo looked slightly rumpled, no one mentioned it.

* * *

**I can't say no to the Plot Bunny who I have named Ori for obvious reasons. I don't even know what I'm doing , I'm just compiling a series of one-shots with Bilbo and the Company. I didn't even _intend_ to have Bagginshield in this first chapter, it was supposed to be friendship!**

**Don't regret it much, truth be told.**

**White Jasmine symbolises sweet love (and is a really adorable flower)**


	2. A is for Apple and B is for Brothers

Fili really deserved this. There was no question about it. Bilbo looked into the amber depths of the apple juice and grinned to himself. It would serve Fili right for annoying him when he'd been ill. The elder prince had been going quite green at the sight, smell, even mention of apples and refused to ever have any of the sweet fruit again despite Dori's horrified protests.

Meeting the prince on the stairs, Bilbo smiled innocently and handed him the cup, to Fili's smiling gratitude. The smile turned to a grimace as Fili smelt and then saw what was inside.

"Err.. thanks, but I don't really like apples all that much anymore. Not since the barrels, you know."

The juice was only the start of what would, in later years, be known as 'The Day Fili Was Bombarded With Apples'.

* * *

Fili was left a fruit salad for his breakfast, with a few segments of orange and a lot of diced up apples. He nearly gagged and pushed the bowl away, going to the cupboards of their boarding to search for some other food he could have.

All in vain. The cupboard contained apple cake, apple biscuits, apple flapjacks, and packs of dried fruit that Fili was convinced had apples nestled between the sultanas and nuts. There was some meat, but as he got it out, he noticed that it smelled of the damned fruit and even had little browning chunks of apple scattered over it.

Well, he could buy food from the marketplace, he decided. All he needed was tea. Opening the tea barrel, he groaned as he realised there was a horrible thick smell of apple. Clearly someone had bought fruity tea bags.

"What is it, Fee?" Kili asked, noticing his brother's misery and fighting a grin. He'd discovered Bilbo swapping their supplies about that morning and had immediately wanted involvement in the fun.

"There's only apple-food here," Fili said, glaring at the tin as though it was to blame for all his problems of that day.

"Oh dear," said Kili, patting his brother's shoulder. "Never mind. Perhaps a hot bath will cheer you up."

Fili looked thoughtful. "Perhaps." He looked towards the room with the bathtub and seemingly coming to a decision, headed to the stairs, passing Bilbo and sparing a smile as he did so.

Kili beckoned Bilbo over. "Did you find the apple-scented soaps and oils?"

"Yes, yes, they're all here." Bilbo passed them to Kili, who grinned evilly. "Great. Come on, we'll get Fili's bath stuff set up for him."

* * *

Fili's bellow of mixed horror and rage didn't come until the blonde Dwarf had been in his tub for half an hour. Before anyone could react, Fili had almost torn the door off its hinges and ran from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"What is it?" Dwalin asked, a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Apples! Stupid, bloody, sickening apples! I have been surrounded by apples all day! And now there's apple soaps!"

"What d'you mean, apple?" Bofur asked. "There's no apple, just a lemon-scented one."

"It's apple!" Fili insisted.

"No, really, smell." And with that, Bofur took off his hat made his way to Fili and held out a lock for the prince to sniff.

Kili was shaking beside Bilbo. He found the whole thing just hilarious. Bilbo was fighting to keep a normal expression.

Fili straightened up, looking at Bofur's hair suspiciously. Then he stared at his brother and the Hobbit beside him. Bilbo could just see the gears in his head turning as he started thinking.

"Kili, Bilbo, what's so funny?"

"Kmmph," Kili answered.

He managed to stay straight-faced, but broke, howling loudly with laughter, shortly followed by the chuckles of a Hobbit. Fili's blue eyes narrowed and he placed his hands on his waist and glowered.

"Fee, oh, Fee!"

"Don't you 'Fee' me." Fili said sternly. "It's been horrible. Aren't you sorry?"

"No," answered Kili. "Oh, Mahal. I haven't laughed so hard since you caught your moustache in that tree!"

Fili gave both a particularly withering look and walked past them, thudding rather noisily up the stairs. Kili held onto Bilbo's shoulder and mumbled incoherently between giggles as he tried to calm down. Every time the Halfling tried to stop his own laughing, one of Kili's snickers or a grin from Bofur would set him off again, meaning it was a long time before either could stop laughing.

* * *

Now that the hilarity of the prank had worn off slightly, they found that Fili was actually quite upset with them. He wouldn't talk or look their way, which both jokers didn't particularly like.

"Fee, we're sorry," Kili said, sitting by his brother's side.

"Mmm."

"We are." Bilbo told him.

"Besides, it was Bilbo's idea."

"Kili! It wasn't my idea to use soaps. That was all _your _ thinking, Master Dwarf."

Fili was ignoring them again. Kili gave Bilbo a wink and said, in a tragic tone, "don't you love us, anymore, Fili?"

Fili stilled.

"I don't think you love us anymore. You probably hate us now."

Fili looked at Kili, and then to Bilbo with a slight pleading in his eyes. It was clear that none of what Kili was saying was true, but the Dwarf was far too stubborn to admit it.

Kili waited and then stood, gesturing to Bilbo. "Come on, we know when we're not wanted."

That got the effect Kili had been hoping for. Fili tugged his brother to sit back down and placed heavy, strong arms around their shoulders. "I do want you, you... fools."

"So, you do love us, then?" Kili asked.

Sighing at the question, Fili nodded. "Yes, though you get on my nerves sometimes."

Smiling again, Kili said somewhat proudly, "That's what brothers are for!"

* * *

**Aww, poor Fili! Gods, that was fun to write! Hope you enjoyed and thanks to Mira Meliandra for letting me use apples as a fic idea!**


	3. Calm After the Storm

"You're angry with me."

Dwalin gave Thorin his best glare. "Too right."

Thorin winced at his injuries as he sat beside Dwalin on the fallen log. "It wasn't sensible.."

"Wasn't sensible? Facing down that thing which killed your grandfather _and _your father too, not _sensible_?"

"It was stupid." Thorin amended.

"All I could remember was the Battle. Anazulbizar. I remember trying to save Frerin. I was too late for him as well."

"Dwalin, I'm not dead."

"You could have been." Dwalin snapped, narrowing his eyes in annoyance at Thorin. "You could have been killed before all of us if it wasn't for the Halfling! How do you think Fili and Kili would have been if they saw you die?"

Thorin glanced downwards, not liking to think of his two nephew's reactions.

"No, I want an _answer_, Thorin."

Looking up from the ground, Thorin searched his mind for an answer, eventually coming out with a quiet, "they would have been upset."

"Upset? They would have been _devastated_, not to mention the trauma."

Dwalin was right. Thorin could well remember his own misery at Frerin and Thror's deaths. True, Fili and Kili would have had the numerous shoulders of the Company to lean on, whereas he had only three, but they hadn't had as much experience with death as he'd had. And even if they had, he would hate to be looking from Mahal's Halls to be seeing his usually happy lads withdrawn and sorrowful as he had been.  
He could feel the familiar weight of Dwalin's arm wrap itself around his shoulders and then the feel of Dwalin's head lightly touching his. That was the brilliance of being such close friends with the warrior. Dwalin more or less knew the words Thorin was thinking so well, they didn't even need saying. It was as though Thorin's silent apology for scaring Dwalin had been said out-loud and Dwalin's sudden contact was his saying that all was forgiven.

"I think you should go on and see your two lads." Dwalin suggested.

* * *

They were sitting by the fire, the fierce glow illuminating the tired looks on their young faces, sharing a thin blanket over their bodies, staying close together, not just for body heat Thorin suspected, but as though to remind themselves that the other was indeed there.

Kili saw him first, eyes lighting up. "Uncle!"

Fili shuffled away from his brother, leaving a space between them. "Sit with us."

Thorin did, though not without noticing the awed look that Kili gave him, nor Fili's worried expression that was normally reserved for his younger brother.

Fili cleared his throat. "I thought you were dead."

Thorin briefly looked into his elder nephew's blue eyes, before tearing his own away. He could barely stand to see the hurt, the fear in those eyes which had held youthful joy. Kili's dark brown eyes were no better, having taken on a distinctly bright look.

"If we did something like that, you'd be shouting at us by now." Kili added, brushing his eyes roughly.

"Boys, I'm sorry. I should not have left you, I shouldn't have gone after Azog. I know I frightened you, and I hope you will forgive me."

Both lunged at their paternal figure, grabbing onto him. Thorin held tightly onto them, feeling torn apart as he listened to their barely concealed sobs.

"Of course we forgive you," Fili said, sounding breathless.

"But, please, never do anything like that again." Kili pleaded.

"Ever." Fili added, tightening his already firm hug he had his uncle in.

Lightly kissing their foreheads, Thorin held them both closer, allowing himself to bask in the fact that they were alive despite everything that had gone on. "I promise," he said.

And he meant it.


	4. Ori's Gift

There was nothing, really, for Ori to do. He'd finished his writing for today, he'd had his dinner and he really wanted to do some knitting, but didn't know who to do it for. Everyone was well-stocked with various garments to wear to fight against the coldness that was coming. Dori had taken it upon himself to ensure their burglar was kept warm, and now Ori gazed around to see if there was anyone he could make something for.

His eyes locked onto their leader. He preferred wearing leather, furs and armour to soft wool, but he kept pushing the thick fur of his coat's collar towards his throat impatiently and giving a silent little shiver at the breeze.

Thorin Oakenshield was _cold_.

And then, Ori knew exactly what to do.

* * *

It was no hardship to make a scarf. In truth, Ori didn't know why he hadn't made Thorin one before. Probably because the king hid his troubles so well.

He only had grey and a small amount of steel-blue wool to work with and he settled down night after night, even knitting when everyone was supposed to be sleeping until Nori or Dori stopped him, determined to make the perfect scarf. His needles clacked together in the burning orange flames of the campfire and in the silvery light of the moon and stars above, their light bouncing off the soft, dark colours. It wasn't a very intricate design, but he knew the weather was getting colder and didn't want to waste time.  
He did, however, add a fringe to its ends, his acknowledgement of the king's liking for running his fingers through soft things coming to his aid.

The night it was finished, Ori shyly shuffled over to where Thorin was resting, a little way from the Company. He seemed lost in thought and Ori was loathe to interrupt him and stood, holding his creation in apprehensive silence before placing it over Thorin's shoulders, hoping he would like it.

Thorin jumped at the sudden contact and turned, his face turning from mildly alarmed to almost pleased as he realised it was his scribe. "Ori. Are you well?"

Ori nodded and pointed at Thorin's shoulders. "I made you a scarf."

Thorin's fingers traveled up to meet the softness of his gift. He looked completely thrown and Ori nearly laughed to see it.

"You looked cold the other night and autumn's approaching."

Thorin nodded this time. "Well. Thank you for this."

"You look surprised." Ori accused. "Who did you think I was knitting for?"

"I didn't think you'd notice."

Ori gave a small grin. "Scribes are supposed to notice things, Mr. Oakenshield."

Thorin's eyes held a glint of amusement. "That they are." He stood and placing a hand on Ori's shoulder, drew the younger Dwarrow to his body, embracing him lightly. "Do you know," he said, "how appreciated you are?"

"Mmph. You sound like Dori."

Thorin did laugh at that, a brief sound of amusement that made Ori smile. "I suppose you know already, then." Thorin released Ori and wrapped the scarf more securely around his neck.

"Does it help any?"

"It helps very much indeed," Thorin answered. "I am grateful for it, Ori." He glanced upwards, toward the camp and shook his head. "Come, we'd best get back before those two drive our Wizard madder than he already is."

Holding back giggles, Ori let Thorin go before him and followed his king back to their campfire, quite proud at how Thorin had liked his scarf.

He would later notice that, except for nights, Thorin never took it off again.

* * *

**When**** the Eagle was carrying Thorin in AUJ, I noticed our favourite Dwarf king had a scarf on and then _this _happened! Hope it was enjoyed!**


	5. Lost and Found

**Well, this might as well be after the Carrock. I need Gandalf in this story to explain things.**

**As I recall, Mister is for married men, and Master is for the unmarried. Apologies for any wrongness!**

* * *

Gloin had a locket. That was common knowledge to everyone in the Company, and it wasn't a surprise to see the proud father and husband grinning wistfully at the pictures contained every single evening. He was a true family man, proud of his son and simply overjoyed with his wife and was full of nothing but praise for them as well as stories that they had all heard thousands of times before.

In fact their burglar was the only one who liked hearing them, even _asking _for stories he'd heard before. Sometimes, there would be an awed, almost jealous look in his eyes that confused some, but they put it down to the strangeness of Hobbits. Gloin was delighted with this attention to his family and took advantage of the questions, answering them with loving details of the two people he adored most in the world.

"-And then he comes home, his newly-forged sword in hand, and says quite proud, 'Da, I'm a true Dwarf now'. And then Neoma asks, 'Well, what were you before?'. He thought about that for a minute or two and then states to us, 'I was a beardling.'." Gloin smiled at the memory. "He's such a funny little lad. Only just growing his beard and a fine one it'll be if his mother and old da are any indication."

"Do you have any other children?"

"No, Gimli's my only one. Most Dwarves only have one child you know."

"Why?"

"Well, we've not got many women, you see and conceiving a child is exceptionally difficult, so I've seen." Gloin explained. Straightening up with pride, he added, "I got the best Dwarrowdam that Mahal could have created."

"Tell me about your wife again."

"She," Gloin said for the umpteenth time, "is very, very beautiful. Hair like liquid copper, eyes like freshly-cut amber and they're _so _pretty they put even the _finest _gem to shame..."

* * *

Gloin wasn't the only one who brought a souvenir of his family with him. Fili had one of his mother's beads alongside his family braid, Kili had a black, shining stone his mother had given him, Bofur had his father's old hat, Bifur had his cousins (at least that's what he said according to Balin), Bombur had his mother's old knives, Ori had his mother's purple ribbons through his hair, Nori had his father's ring kept in a secret pocket, Dori had his father's knitting needles, Oin had his mother's old tobacco pouch, Dwalin had his knuckle-dusters that had been gifted from his mother, Balin had his father's sword and Thorin had his key and map along with a bright silver bead his mother had made for him kept hidden in the depths of his long, dark hair.

Bilbo had a souvenir too. Bungo, his father, had been a very sentimental Hobbit and kept conjoined picture frames that held pictures of his wife and son. It was a common occurrence to see him standing around, peering at the photos and chuckling softly, that same gleam of happiness in his eyes as were in Gloin's. Bilbo and Bungo's favourite was a really tiny one, so small Bilbo could cover his fingers over it when holding it in one hand. Bungo liked it because he could thread a piece of string through it and carry it around his neck when he went away anywhere. Bilbo like it because it made Bungo so happy.

He drew it out himself and looked at the pictures inside too. His mother smiling, wearing a rosebud crown in her hair. On the opposite side was a picture of Bungo holding his newborn son and looking, as the Hobbit said, 'pleased as punch'. Despite Bilbo's oddness as a youngster, Bungo had undoubtedly been pleased with his son, caring only that Bilbo was polite, tidy, well-spoken and educated. He had been a wonderful, kindly soul and Bilbo felt a pull in his chest every time he remembered his untimely, gruesome end.

"What's that, laddie?"

Bilbo gave a start, but relaxed as he saw the redheaded Dwarf. "Hello, Mister Gloin. They're old pictures, is all." Seeing as Gloin had let him see his own pictures, Bilbo handed it over to allow him a look.

"Is this _your _lad?" Gloin asked, pointing a calloused finger to the portrait of Bilbo in his father's arms.

"No, that child is actually me. The adult is my father."

"You look _exactly_ as he does. Though you're much slimmer than he is, if you don't mind my saying."

Instead of being offended or hurt as most Hobbits would, Bilbo found it funny. "I take after my mother in that respect. She was a slim woman." He paused, then tentatively asked. "Do I really look like my father?"

"You're near a copy of him," Gloin answered, giving back the pictures, conversationally adding, "you don't talk about him all that much."

"No. Well. I have my reasons." The last four words were spoken quietly and without eye contact.

"Was he good to you?"

"Of course!" Bilbo only then realised the reason for Gloin's concern. "Something bad happened to him. That's why I don't talk about him very much."

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, along with a word of sympathy, that Bilbo responded to accordingly, hoping that the subject of Bungo would not come up again.

* * *

Of course it did. Bilbo had only gone to fetch some firewood when a faraway sound of howling reached his pointed ears. He froze, holding the bundle of sticks tightly to his chest, fumbling for his sword, distant memories swirling around his mind, remembering the winter that had stolen his father.

_Ahwoooooo!_

He tried to steady his breathing, his grasp firmly on his sword at last and tried to be brave, though he still trembled.

_AHWOOOO!_

It was close the beast, so close and it would surely be bringing its friends with him, it might even be the same pack who killed poor Father...

"Gotcha!"

All Bilbo saw was hair and the gleam of eyes. It was enough. It reminded him of the Wolves that had descended upon the Shire like a plague, and with this in mind, he drew out hs sword, abandoned the wood and started slicing through the air at his attackers, screeching profanities and insults.

"Bilbo!"

"Mr. Boggins, it's _us_!"

His sword hit something metal and bounced back, wrenching itself out of his grip. He suddenly saw, by the last dregs of light by the dying sun, that he hadn't been attacking wolves. There were no wolves, only two Dwarves who had thought pretending to be wolves themselves would be funny. Behind him, he could hear the now-familiar thudding of boots, telling him that the others had clearly heard his terror-stricken yelps and shrieks and were now coming to investigate. Fili and Kili were apologising profusely, heading towards him, only he took steps back from them, staring at them as though they'd grown two heads each.

"Have you had an argument?" Ori asked, having taken note of the sticks scattered around and the fact the two princes seemed apologetic for something.

"We didn't mean to scare him _that _much." Kili said, still shooting anxious looks at Bilbo.

"What did you two do _this _time?" Thorin asked.

"Made wolf noises and jumped at him," Fili admitted. "We didn't think it would frighten him so."

"Wolf sounds?" Dwalin repeated disbelievingly. "Come on. A wolf isn't much to be scared of-"

"They are." Bilbo told him, having recovered from his scare. "They are a lot to be scared of, Master Dwalin."

"They're giant dogs. Nothing more."

"Maybe to _you_, but they are _the _most frightening creature to most Hobbits." Bilbo told him.

"How are they so scary, eh?" Dwalin asked. "I see nothing scary about 'em."

Bilbo glanced at Gandalf, asking silently for his help. The Fell Winter was not something he could _remember_ without completely breaking down, and telling the tale would be impossible. The Wizard nodded and cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the Dwarrows.

"Thirty years ago there was a particularly bitter winter in the Shire. It was so cold it completely froze the Brandywine River, a feat which had never before occurred in history. The frozen river allowed wolves and Orcs to cross into the Shire and the beasts attacked and devoured anything that moved."

"Orcs?"

"Yes. Of course, those who lived closest to the river and had kin elsewhere left as soon as they could. Bilbo's mother had family living Over the Hill, so they got themselves packed up and went to them. Unfortunately their trail was picked up by a pack of considerably vicious wolves who hunted them down and attacked them. Barely minutes from the Old Took's door and the pack sprung out of nowhere.."

"He sacrificed himself for us." Bilbo interrupted, wanting them to know exactly what his father did. "He made us run and told us he would hold them off. How he expected to, I've no idea, he could barely fight.. but protect us he did. As we ran, we could hear him... He was screaming a lot. We shouldn't have left him."

"You were a child," Gandalf gently reminded. "And Belladonna simply wished to get you to safety."

"He died alone." Managing to make brief eye contact with the others, Bilbo heaved a quiet sigh. "He was incredibly proud and happy of my mother and I. He used to talk about us to anyone who would listen..."

Suddenly the reason for Bilbo's never-ending love for hearing about Gimli and Neoma was apparent. Hearing Gloin talk about them reminded Bilbo of the happy times his father had given him and had given no reason for him to think of his passing.

"We're really sorry." Kili repeated, looking regretfully towards Bilbo.

"It was never our intention to scare you so." Fili added.

Bilbo shook his head. "You didn't know, it's alright." A small smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. "Though, don't you dare do that again, I could cause real damage next time."

"There won't be a next time." Fili promised.

Kili nodded his agreement and, following a nudge from his brother, started gathering up the fallen wood, Bilbo copying their actions soon after. The Company left them to their work, though not without a backward glance and a soft murmur to each other.

* * *

As was normal, Bilbo approached Gloin and gazed hopefully at him Almost chuckling at the expression in those eyes, Gloin placed an arm around his shoulders. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Please, may I hear another story?"

"You've heard them all."

Gloin was looking thoughtful. Bilbo narrowed his eyes. "What are you thinking?"

"Do you have any stories to tell?"

"About _my _family?" Bilbo asked, looking amazed.

"Aye."

"Well... " Bilbo was at a loss for words. He'd never been asked a question like this before. "I can't think of any."

"Didn't you have that relative who lopped off a Goblin's head?"

"He didn't just lop off any old Goblin's head," Bilbo said indignantly. "He single-handedly killed the Goblin _King_! _And _he lived for _quite _some time to tell the tale!"

"Well," said Gloin patiently. "That sounds a good one to hear."

"It is," Bilbo answered after a moment's pause. "Would you like to hear it?"

"If you could."

"The year was 2747. A group of Goblins attacked the Shire, but they weren't expecting the inhabitants to fight back. They were led by my great-great-great-great uncle, Bandobras Took, though everyone called him 'Bullroarer', particularly after the Battle. He charged the Goblin's ranks on the day and the legend goes that he swung his club _so_ hard it knocked the King of Goblin's head clean off and sent it flying, therefore winning the Battle of Greenfields. Whether it really went down a rabbit hole and invented golf is anyone's guess."

"See? You do have stories to tell."

"Do you ever mind my asking for yours?"

"Of course I don't! You'd know it if I did."

"It was unfair not to give my own." Bilbo mused.

"Don't be a fool," Gloin told him. "You should tell yours _when _you wish to and not _unless _you wish to."

There was another silence. Bilbo rested against his companion and said thoughtfully, "I think my father would have liked you."

"What about the others?"

"Oh, he wouldn't have liked them."

Gloin looked down at Bilbo, who was smiling in a very pleased way at his joke. "You terrible, little..." He tightened his hold around the Hobbit, trying not to grin.

"I wasn't _serious_." Bilbo protested. "But, honestly, I think he would have liked you."

"Well, that's good, then. He was clearly a brilliant parent to you."

Bilbo nodded, now fully relaxed against Gloin's side. "He was."

Noticing the smaller being was nearly sleeping, Gloin gently shook his shoulder. "Come on, you. Go on to bed, you'll be sleeping shortly, I'll bet."

"There really is nothing you won't bet on," Bilbo yawned.

"Bets make life interesting," Gloin replied, lightly pushing him to his feet. "Off you go, now."

"Mr. Gloin.. thank you."

"Call me 'Gloin', laddie."

Bilbo nodded. "Goodnight, Gloin."

Watching the last of the flames flicker out, leaving a pile of steadily glowing embers, Gloin stood and went over to his pack to get his bedroll out, fighting the urge to shake his head when he noticed that Oin had already set it out for him. Soft-hearted sod. Lying upon it, he rested his eyes, only to open them barely a minute later at the sound of a small sound of distress from where the Halfling lay.

He was having a bad dream.

The way Gloin saw it, he had two choices. Either he could ignore it or he could deal with it. The decision didn't take long to come.

* * *

If anyone was confused as to why Gloin was closer to Bilbo in the morning than he was to Oin, or as to how it was their burglar was safely encased in Gloin's arms, well, no one mentioned it.

And if, sometimes, Gloin allowed Bilbo to curl up beside him at nights, enveloping him into a hug, no one mentioned that either.

* * *

**Not slash, just so you know. Just, there's no fics with Gloin and Bilbo (I don't ship Gloinbo, obviously Gloin loves his One far too much to want anyone else. No offence meant to anyone who does!). So, I made this one. Maybe I can start a new trend of fics with Gloin and Bilbo, eh? :D**

**Hope it was enjoyed!**


	6. Dagger From the Heart

When most people looked at Ori, they saw the soft, grey-purple cardigan, or the lilac ribbons, or they would take one look at his young face and gentle deep-blue eyes and decide he really wasn't a danger.

They were wrong.

They thought he was all soft, unable to seriously hurt another creature. They were wrong about this too. Dwarves, by nature, are tough and hardy, and can wield an ax better than most other races. Ori was no exception.

It had taken his two brothers far too long to realise this. They hadn't known how strong, how brave their baby brother truly was until the Trolls had happened. Nori had been taken by surprise by one of the Trolls and before Dori could react, Ori had immediately been there with his catapult and the next thing either brother knew, Nori had been dropped like a stone and Ori was running 'round with his catapult above his head as though he was wielding a mithril sword instead of a wooden catapult, the stretching material of which looked like it was on its last days of usefulness.

Now, both looked at their sleeping younger sibling, who was holding said weapon, if really it could be called such a thing, tightly in his fist. Nori shook his head.

"I told you he needed a proper weapon, didn't I?"

Dori rolled his eyes. "He did perfectly well with his catapult."

"Yeah, this time. What about next time, eh? I know you want to keep him safe, but one day you're not going to be there. And neither will I."

"He did do well, didn't he?" Dori murmured.

Nori nodded. "He did."

"Perhaps..perhaps it would be best if he had a backup choice."

Nori hid a grin, though he was pleased with their progress. "Mmm." He looked sideways at Dori, as though considering him.

"What is it?" Dori asked.

"Just remembering when Amad was alive. I remember my 40th birthday. You made the dagger for me."

"Which dagger? You have at least ten."

Slipping a hand up his sleeve, Nori brought out a sheathed knife. The sheath was of leather, but the hilt of it was of steel and it shone brightly in the firelight. "This one. I remember Amad was terrified I'd poke someone's eye out with it-"

"Which you nearly did!"

Nori did grin at that, recalling past memories. "Completely accidental. But, I was a child, a clever child, but still a little one and _you, _my dear brother, went out of your way to craft a dagger for me. I don't understand why you begrudge Ori a knife in this situation."

"Look at all the trouble you got into-" Dori began, glaring at Nori.

"He is not me," Nori firmly replied. "He is sensible, he's hardly as reckless, and you've brought him up not to be different to.. people like me."

Noticing the brief downcast look in his younger brother's eyes, Dori softened. "'People like you'? Come, Nori. I'm not happy with _some_ of your life decisions, but I know you have a good heart."

"Sappy old sod. And I think you _did_ remember the dagger."

"Do you?"

Nori decided to not bother dignifying the question with an answer. Dori would most likely deny it anyway. "Will you sort out Ori with a dagger? 'Cos, _I _can, if you can't..."

"Nori! You will _not_ thieve off our hosts. I'll get him one."

Nori gave a nod, looking back at his little brother and allowing himself a smile.

* * *

Ori was hastily sketching down a drawing of one of the delicate statues decorating Rivendell. He very much doubted he would come back here again, and wanted to remember it as much as he could. Adding a few last details, he gazed down at his work with slight pride before snapping his notebook shut and turning.

"Hey! Ori."

Turning again, he spotted Dori and waited for him. As his brother drew closer, he saw a flash of silver and began to feel curious. What had Dori found?

"It appears you certainly can defend yourself well with your catapult. However, maybe it would be best to have this." He sounded slightly somber as he announced this and then paused, looked at Ori, and then held the object out.

It was a knife, long and sharp, made of bright steel. Its hilt was twisted and would be easy to grip onto. It lay on a strap of leather that would need to be shaped into an appropriate sheath in time.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Besides, you never know what might happen in these Elven lands."

Personally, Ori didn't mind the Elves, but he decided not to inform Dori of this and he allowed it to be placed into his hands. It was heavy, but he knew he would be able to fight well with it, he could get used to its weight.

"Thank you."

Dori's smile was pained, but his own blue eyes seemed to glow with pride, and he placed a hand on Ori's shoulder, bringing him closer so he could touch his forehead. "May it serve you well, _nadadel_."

* * *

**I've been meaning to write about the brothers Ri for quite some time and finally got Ori the Plot Bunny to give me a plot. I love that Ori has a catapult, but I bet you anything that Nori is like 'Oh Mahal, he's going to get killed only using that thing', and Dori just thinks, 'I'll be there to protect him, he'll be fine.' Maybe Ori did have a dagger, but for the purpose of this, we'll pretend he didn't. **

**Hope you enjoyed it!**

**Love from Shania. (And Ori the Plot Bunny, because it really was all his fault!)**


	7. To Love An Elf

**For Katari Michelos who wished to see Balin giving Kili advice for his love for Tauriel.**

* * *

He was not handsome. He was too lean of face, too tall, too hairless, his hair was uncontrollable and his nose was too small. His weapon of choice wasn't a weapon that most people swooned over, leaving Kili without many suitors from his own race. Women from the race of Man liked him and when he'd been a child, a young Dwarf girl had told him he was 'cute', but that was it as far as it had ever gone.

And then he'd met Tauriel.

Tall, long red hair, eyes of a golden-amber-brown he couldn't place, high cheekbones, no beard, and a tiny straight nose. Wonderful with a bow and arrow, too. But she was an Elf and he was..

He was too different. Dwarves and Elves aren't meant to get on, that was what he'd been taught, but she was so...

Beautiful. Strong. Intelligent. Brave. Every quality he'd admired had been given to this Elf maiden.

"I notice you keep looking at the maiden Thranduil and his son bring on their every visit." a voice said, interrupting his thoughts.

"It's nothing." Kili answered. Trust Balin to want to discuss the matter with him.

"Laddie, there's nothing to be ashamed of if you have affections for her..."

"But I shouldn't! We're different. Too different."

"Different?" Balin's gentle tone betrayed an underlying of shock. "Whatever do you mean?"

"She's an Elf, and I'm not. Elves and Dwarves aren't supposed to be so close."

"Lad, did I ever tell you of Narvi?"

"He made the Doors of Durin, I know."

"Mm. And who did he make them with?"

"Celebrimbor. His friend."

"And what exactly was Celebrimbor?"

"He was an Elf." Kili remembered.

"Indeed he was. They were such close friends, were they not?"

"They were, but I don't _just _ want friendship from Tauriel."

Balin curved an arm around Kili's shoulders. "You and she both can have whatever kind of relationship you wish for, laddie. If you want to court her, marry her, you do what you can to get to that point."

"What if she refuses? I am not as beautiful as she is."

"You aren't that bad looking, for Mahal's sake!" Balin said, "Kili, very few match the fairness of the Elven folk, but I do not believe she cares for beauty as much as you think."

"How do you know?" Kili asked. He moved a little closer, feeling as safe as he had when Balin had talked him through his worries as a Dwarfling.

"Well, do you think she is that shallow-minded?"

"No."

"No, indeed."

Kili was silent for a few moments. Then, "Will you tell the story of how Narvi met Celebrimbor?"

Balin nodded. Kili remained silent as Balin explained in detail of Celebrimbor's dealings in Khazad-Dum and how he had befriended the Dwarf Lord and gradually the two had begun work on the Doors of Durin.

"Moonlight," Kili murmured after the tale was told.

"Of course it was Lord Celebrimbor's idea."

Kili gave a small smile. "Thank you. For coming to me."

Balin chuckled and moved to press his forehead against Kili's. "Think nothing of it, laddie. Do you feel better now?"

Kili nodded. "I do."

"Make sure that you let her know just how special she is to you," Balin told him.

"I will," Kili promised, pushing his dark hair back.

Balin surveyed him for a moment, thinking on how Kili resembled his uncle when he looked so determined. He patted his shoulder. "I know you will, lad."

* * *

**I know, we all know that Kili is beautiful, but from a Dwarf's point of view, he probably isn't considered very handsome :( **

**Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	8. The King

**It was Ori the Plot Bunny again. Not my fault! Blame him!**

* * *

"You are so naive!" Thorin growled

"Well, it's a lot better than being...jaded!" Bilbo snapped.

"And _what_, Halfling, is wrong with _that_?"

This was the eighth time Thorin had seen fit to warn Bilbo off against the Rivendell Elves and it would be the last if the Hobbit had anything to say about it. He'd had enough of this overprotective fool and wasn't afraid to show it.

"There's nothing exactly right with it, Dwarf!"

"Don't you 'Dwarf' me in that tone, burglar!"

"Well, don't you 'Halfling' me in _yours_!" Bilbo retorted.

"Halfling, I am your King and you will-"

"_You're_ _not _my King."

* * *

Thorin wasn't sure why those words cut at him so much. He _wasn't _the Halfling's King, that was true. He didn't know quite what it was about the statement that hurt, but it did and the fact confused him. Perhaps it was the tone. The simple, yet firm way it had been put across. As though the Hobbit was glad of it.

He'd hardly been pleasant, he knew, but he thought... well he thought Bilbo respected him as the others did, for what he was- a King (even if he was one in exile, currently). Now he started to wonder.

* * *

That Dwarf was highly insufferable! Growling and snapping, a refusal to believe in the good of others... Thorin was just lucky Bilbo hadn't whacked him over the head with a frying pan yet.  
But still, Bilbo regretted saying those words. Not the words themselves, but the reaction. Thorin Oakenshield had been _hurt_.

By him.

He was not, by nature, good at hurting people. The thought of causing pain or sadness to another was a thought he didn't like at all. But he hadn't done anything wrong.

He felt confused. Just what was he supposed to do?

"Y'alright, there, Bilbo?"

Bilbo perked up slightly. Bofur could surely help!

* * *

"What's the matter with you?" Nori asked.

Thorin gave him a withering look. "It's nothing."

"With respect, Thorin, you don't have a younger brother and not learn a thing or two."

"Are you comparing me to Ori?"

Nori shrugged and watched Thorin. "Are you going to tell me, or do I have to tickle it out of you?"

Thorin shook his head at his distant cousin. "The Hobbit told me I wasn't his King."

Nori stared at Thorin. "And...?"

"Well, that was it."

"Bloody hell, you are like Ori," Nori muttered. "Why does that make you miserable for?"

"The Company respect me because I am their King, yes?"

"No."

"What?"

"They respect you because of who you are, the things you've done, not because of _what _you are. I can't believe you would think that, you great idiot!"

Thorin gave Nori his best glare. "There was no need for that last remark."

"There was every need," Nori said, "and Bilbo does respect you. Now, I'm guessing you two argued about the tree-shaggers. Again."

"He called me 'jaded'."

"Because you don't trust him on his own. You see his wide-eyed wonder of everything in this world and you automatically think he'll get himself into some mischief-"

"Which he has!"

"That's what happens. You won't always be able to stop him from putting himself in harm's way."

"I can if I try."

Nori fought a sigh at his stubborn kin. "I don't think he knows that you rank his safety so high."

"No," Thorin agreed, "I don't suppose he does."

"Make him see. Tell him. Sometimes words speak louder than actions."

* * *

Bofur nodded, while listening carefully to the tale Bilbo was telling him. "Well, you know why he doesn't like the Elves, don't you?"

"I do, but not all of them are bad!"

"I know," Bofur said gently, "but he associates Elves with people abandoning those who need them, with betrayal. In his own way, he's trying to make sure you don't leave us."

"He really has so little faith in me?"

"No, no!" Bofur backpedaled hastily. "It's not that he's got no faith, he's just..taking precautions!"

"I don't think he has got faith in his burglar."

Bofur opened his mouth to counter-argue this claim, but stopped himself from speaking when he noticed a newcomer joining them.

"Might I speak with Master Baggins? Alone."

* * *

By Mahal's beard. Nori was right.

_'I don't think he has got faith in his burglar'._

Wherever did he get that idea from?

Well, he was alone with the Hobbit now and he had no clue how to proceed.

"I'm not going to leave."

This announcement surprised Thorin. "Well, I should hope not, I only just got here."

Bilbo tried not to roll his eyes. "I meant the quest."

"I am glad to hear it. You should know, I have faith in you. I have faith in every member of our Company. I would never have allowed anyone to join us if I had no faith in them."

"Good. You looked...hurt when I told you that you weren't my king."

Thorin looked into those quizzical green eyes and felt himself nod. "I felt as though you didn't respect me."

Bilbo was horrified. "I do! I _do _respect you! Not because you're a king, but because... your determination, your strength, not because of your _title_!"

Thorin nodded again. " Nori implied that you may have felt that I do not trust you." Bilbo made no move to deny this, which Thorin took as a cue to keep on. "He thinks I'm protective because you have not traveled often."

"I _have _traveled.."

"Not in these circumstances," Thorin pointed out, "he was wrong, however. I do whatever I can to protect _all_ of those under my leadership." He leveled a look at Bilbo. "You are under my leadership. A part of this Company."

He hoped that got the message across. Bilbo was watching him steadily. A light glimmer crept into his eyes and a smile curved his mouth and Thorin relaxed.

He'd _definitely_ gotten the message across.

* * *

**Meant as friendship, but Bagginshield if you squint :)**

**Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	9. Remembering Adad

Fili was undoubtedly Kili's best friend. He protected him, braided his hair, made sure he ate enough every night, played pranks with him and gave him a piggyback on the rare occasions he got tired. He adored his younger brother with the passion of a thousand suns and Kili loved his brother equally as much, though he rarely was given the opportunity to show it.

Kili never knew their father, the Dwarf had died long before his birth, but Fili had and he awoke crying every anniversary. He made Kili promise to never tell their mother or uncle, but accepted his brother's shoulder to cry on. Kili felt helpless when Fili cried. Fili rarely wept and it was all he could do not to cry with him, yet he never allowed himself because he knew that would only cause his elder brother more sorrow. So, he held him in his arms and pressed kisses to his forehead, much like Fili did for him, hoping that he would always be there when Fili woke up.

That was before he went on the quest with his brother, uncle and twelve others.

* * *

The sky above was dark when Fili awoke, panting out breathless sobs. He curled into a ball, trying to stay quiet, for he knew his brother was still sleeping. Memories of his father with his golden hair, warm brown eyes and open arms made him cry harder, the noises escaping into the night. He pressed his hands over his eyes, hot tears wetting the skin and sniffled quietly.

Not so far away, Thorin heard little muffled sounds coming from where his nephews lay by each other. Concerned, he got up and silently walked over, noting Fili's postion. Crouching beside him, he gently shook Fili's shoulder.

"A-Adad.."

Thorin's shoulders slumped. Today was the day... oh, no. Carefully, he placed an arm underneath Fili and got him to sit up before kneeling and pulling his nephew to the comforting warmth of his body. Fili gave a gasp and clung tightly to him, burying his head into Thorin's stomach. He choked out a few more sobs before shuffling around, pulling himself up and relaxing once more against his uncle, resting his chin on Thorin's shoulder.

"How long have you been crying, my boy?"

"Don't know," Fili answered, "'m sorry, I know it's stupid-"

"Shh, no," Thorin said, pressing his forehead to Fili's. "It's not stupid at all. He was your papa. You mustn't feel ashamed of grieving for him, Fili."

"It's been nearly eighty years." Fili said.

"Mmm. But he was a good and loving father, was he not?"

Fili almost whimpered, several more tears streaking their way down his cheeks. "He was the best father."

"Grief can last for a very long time," Thorin said gently, brushing at Fili's tear-streaked face. "Particularly over someone as wonderful as your father."

"How long did it take you to get over your papa?"

"There is no getting over it," Thorin answered. "There is only the lessening of the pain."

Fili looked at Thorin with slight curiosity. "D'you still cry about your father?"

Thorin thought for a moment, studying his nephew in the dim moonlight, before nodding. "I used to. Once a year the tears would flow," he gave a dry laugh. "Dwalin must have dreaded it."

Fili's eyes widened. "You went to _Dwalin_?!"

"He's like a brother to me. Besides, if you need him, he's a very good shoulder to weep on."

"I can't imagine it. When did the pain go away?"

"Three years ago. I was sad, but couldn't cry. The hurt had almost gone. I remember Dwalin was so pleased that his, ah, service, was no longer needed..."

Fili coughed a laugh. "I always thought you never cried. That you were too strong."

"There is no weakness in tears," Thorin said. "Don't believe for one minute that there is."

Unable and unwilling to stop himself, Fili snuggled further into Thorin's comforting arms. "I won't, Uncle."

Thorin kissed Fili's brow. "That's good."

Fili cleared his throat. "Stay with me a little longer?"

Hiding a smile, Thorin gently hooked a stray lock of Fili's golden hair behind his ear. "Certainly, my little beardling."


	10. The Man in The Moon

**Do I own this song? Do I, hell! No, this artwork of a song belongs to J.R.R Tolkien, but it's the Peter Jackson version of it. The plot is: Bilbo teaching Bofur the song we hear in the Extended Edition of AUJ.**

**I don't actually own anything but the plot of this fanfiction.**

* * *

_"Oh, there's an inn, there's an inn, there's a merry old inn,  
Beneath an old grey hill,  
And there they brew a beer so brown,  
The Man in the Moon himself-_Oh!"

Bofur truly hadn't meant to interrupt the lively song, but it had interested him so much, how could he do anything but go and investigate? Besides, he'd never heard Bilbo sing before.

"Will you teach me?" Bofur asked hopefully. "Only, it's such a lovely tune."

Bilbo considered this for a short while before nodding. "If you wish, but it's not as interesting as some of your songs."

"Oh, I doubt that, lad!" Bofur said, grinning. "Carry on."

_"The Man in the Moon himself came down..."_

As Bilbo continued the song, Bofur made mental notes on how the words carried, how long each word took to say and was tickled by the story it told. He cheered when it was finished.

"I like that song, truly." he praised. "I shall have to sing it to you one day!"

* * *

By 'one day', Bilbo decided Bofur had meant 'everyday'. He even sang it in Rivendell, proudly telling Lord Elrond who had taught him the song. The Elf Lord looked astounded at the news Hobbits knew such songs. Certainly Elves had no drinking songs that Bilbo knew of.

He hummed it while they trekked across the Misty Mountains, despite Nori's orders for him to change to a new song.

While they escaped into the trees from Azog, Bilbo could have sworn he heard the familiar lilt of Bofur's voice lightly singing the words.

Now, they were at Beorn's Halls where even the Skin-Changer was humming the words. Bilbo couldn't help smiling at that, though. Gruff, tall Beorn singing 'The Man in The Moon' seemed oddly amusing to him, and he went outside to avoid laughing at their host.

_"The ostler has a tipsy cat  
Who plays a five-stringed fiddle..."_

"Can't a Hobbit find five minutes peace?" Bilbo called out, beaming at Bofur sat beside him.

Chuckling, Bofur answered, "you waved goodbye to privacy when you came after us that day."

"Bofur?"

"Mmm?" Bofur glanced up from his pipe, flashing a smile as he did.

"I am sorry. For-"

"Hey. None of that!" Bofur slung a heavy arm around Bilbo's shoulders, pulling him closer. "I know you meant no harm by it and no harm was taken from it."

There was a pleasant silence and Bofur began continuing his earlier performance.

_"And up and down, he saws his bow  
Now squeaking hiiiiigh, now purring low-"_

"You've stopped!"

"Sing with me, an' I'll continue." Bofur answered.

Bilbo hid a smile. "Fine, then."

Bofur laughed. "Brilliant! On we go, now."

_"-Now sawing in the middle  
_

_So, the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle  
A jig that would wake the dead:  
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,  
While the landlord shook the Man in The Moon  
'It's after three!' He said!"_

"I should never have taught you that song!" Bilbo told Bofur between his hiccups of laughter.

"I'm very glad ye did. It's provided me with weeks of amusement, I'll have you know."

"Thorin threatened to throw you off a cliff twice. I'd hardly call that 'amusement'."

"I only regret not teaching it to the Elf Lord in Rivendell. I'm sure he'd have loved it."

Bilbo couldn't imagine solemn Lord Elrond singing the Hobbitish drinking song. He looked at Bofur, who still had a hold on his shoulders. "I think it's more of a song for Hobbits and Dwarves."

Bofur gave a cheery grin. "Aye. Perhaps it could be the Company Ballad."

Bilbo chuckled softly. The lush, bright green grass flickered in the wind and with Bofur by his side and the warm sun above, he felt truly at peace the most since he'd left home. "Yes," he said with a smile. "It could."

* * *

**You can never have enough Bofur. If we all had Bofur in our lives, the world would be a merrier place. Can you imagine Bofur singing this song constantly? I bet he would, because he loves music and likes singing and playing instruments to people. Add the two together and you have Bofur singing his new favourite song to everyone he meets out of the goodness of his heart.**

**Not meant to be Boffins/Blibofur, but if you prefer to see it that way, go ahead! :)**

**Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	11. Babe in the Woods

**This is very random and silly even by my standards. Basically, Bilbo gets caught in Mirkwood too, but Thranduil has no clue exactly what Bilbo is. Now, what's beardless, tiny and has hair in strange places (to an Elf)? A Dwarf child, of course!**

* * *

The Elven palace was misty with a thick, yellow light. It wasn't a healthy, warm golden as Rivendell had been and the Elves were colder, harder and completely terrifying. Bofur kept close to Bilbo as the Elvenfolk would allow and Bilbo felt himself grow dizzy as they walked further through the unbearable atmosphere that lay over the Kingdom.

They were taken to a large room, dark walls surrounding them. The Elves left their sides and moved back, watching them through coldly interested eyes. There was sudden tension as every Dwarrow in the group saw something directly in front of them. Stepping closer to Bofur, Bilbo looked too.

In a tall, antlered chair perched an Elf. He had the same chiselled features as every other Elf that had accompanied them, yet he had long, straight white-blonde hair, upon which sat a crown that looked to be made of twigs with little red leaves curling around them. He had very blue eyes, and wore a outfit that seemed to be made of the stars themselves and upon his finger was a silver ring supporting a white, glimmering jewel.

This was no Elf, it seemed. This was the Elvenking, Thranduil.

"It has been a long time since Dwarves were last in our borders," Thranduil said. "Tell me, Oakenshield, what brings you into Greenwood?"

"What business is it of yours?"

Thranduil stood. His long robes fell from his body, settling by his feet, making him look as though he'd risen from a pool of ice. "It is my business when I have _trespassers _ in my Kingdom."

Thorin was not cowed so easily. "We were passing through."

Thranduil began stalking over. "To where?"

"The other side," Thorin answered.

Bilbo began to see where Fili and Kili got their cheek from.

Thranduil stood a short distance from them. "Very amusing. I shall ask you again.. What is that?"

Glancing up, Bilbo found the blue eyes of the Elvenking fastened onto his own.

Thorin looked as though he'd just invented the sun. "He's a beardling."

_'What?!' _Bilbo stared at Thorin, unable to believe what he'd just heard. Had the King really just said that?

"Oh, aye," now Bofur, the traitor, nodded his head in agreement. "He's m'cousin Bifur's lad."

Bifur replied to this by dragging Bilbo towards him, holding him too securely around the shoulders with a strong arm.

"Why are you taking him on a journey through here?" Thranduil eventually asked.

Thorin gave a long-suffering sigh. "He's been asking for ages to visit Lake Town. Last year we finally had enough and decided to take him."

"All of you?"

"Aye."

"Why all of you?"

Thorin shrugged. "I thought my nephews might like to come. The others are meeting kin there."

There was a silence while the Elvenking thought this through. Finally he tilted his head, looking back at Bilbo. "What year were you born in?"

Seeing no other way around it, Bilbo, attempting to change his vocal tone, answered, "29..11."

Thranduil seemed satisfied, though he cast Thorin a suspicious look. "Very well. You are free to go."

With a swishing moment, he Elf King left. Bilbo turned to glare fiercely at Thorin, telling the Dwarf that they would _all _ be discussing this soon. Thorin bowed his head, a faint glitter in his eyes when he looked up.

* * *

"A _child_?! A _child_, Thorin?" Bilbo demanded, thumping at Thorin as hard as he was able. They'd finally lost the Elves and Bilbo had wasted no time in letting his displeasure be known. "You great, hairy fool!"

"Oh, come now," said Dwalin, taking hold of Bilbo and trying to catch his fists. "No harm done!"

"I didn't know what else to do!"

"Well, why not just say... I don't know, but, _really_? A beardling?!"

Dwalin gave up on trying to grab hold of Bilbo's hands ere the hobbit caused real damage and simply encased him with his arms, finally stopping the attack. "Well, in fairness," he mused, ignoring Bilbo's orders to be released. "You sort of do look-"

"Finish that sentence and I'll break your shin with one kick," Bilbo threatened.

Thorin was starting to look abashed. "I didn't want to upset, I just wanted to leave quickly. What would you have done?"

"I wouldn't have said that! Why couldn't you have said you were taking your youngest kin to look upon the Mountain?"

"Because he would have suspected something," Thorin explained. "He knows Durin's Day is approaching and he knows the heirs to the throne. If we let him know that we'll be facing the Dragon, he would have locked us all up and thrown away the key."

"...Oh."

Sensing the danger was over, Dwalin released Bilbo, grinning over at Thorin. Oh, he'd be telling this one when Thorin eventually got himself married, for sure.

"I'm sorry I hit you."

"It didn't hurt. Though I didn't appreciate being called a 'hairy fool'."

Bilbo looked down, biting back a smile. "I apologise for that as well. Even though it was true."

Thorin gave an amused huff. Cupping the back of Bilbo's head with a hand, he asked, "how are you feeling? You didn't look well while in Mirkwood."

"It was just the air. It wasn't very good in there."

Thorin shook his head in agreement. "I know." Lowering his hand to grasp a shoulder, he bestowed a smile onto his burglar. "We head to Lake Town in ten minutes. Take some rest before we go."

As Thorin left, Bilbo glanced East. Though there was a thicket of trees and a heavy expanse of lake, he could almost see the single mountain, rising high into the pale sky.

* * *

**Eh, Thranduil isn't stupid, he'd have known what a Hobbit is, I'm sure, but this idea seemed too amusing to refuse :)**

**Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


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